The Red Thumb Mark by R. Austin Freeman

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"Bah!" exclaimed Thorndyke, drawing his rug round his shoulders; "thisis a cheerless hour--a quarter past one. See how chilly and miserableall these poor devils of passengers look. Shall we cab it or walk?"

"I think a sharp walk would rouse our circulation after sitting huddledup in the carriage for so long," I answered.

"So do I," said Thorndyke, "so let us away; hark forward! and also TallyHo! In fact one might go so far as to say Yoicks! That gentleman appearsto favour the strenuous life, if one may judge by the size of hissprocket-wheel."

He pointed to a bicycle that was drawn up by the kerb in the approach--amachine of the road-racer type, with an enormous sprocket-wheel,indicating a gear of, at least, ninety.

"Some scorcher or amateur racer, probably," I said, "who takes theopportunity of getting a spin on the wood pavement when the streets areempty." I looked round to see if I could identify the owner, but themachine appeared to be, for the moment, taking care of itself. King'sCross is one of those districts of which the inhabitants are slow insettling down for the night, and even at a quarter past one in themorning its streets are not entirely deserted. Here and there theglimmer of a street lamp or the far-reaching ray from a tall electriclight reveals the form of some nocturnal prowler creeping along withcat-like stealthiness, or bursting, cat-like, into unmelodious song. Notgreatly desirous of the society of these roysterers, we crossed quicklyfrom the station into the Gray's Inn Road, now silent and excessivelydismal in aspect, and took our way along the western side. We had turnedthe curve and were crossing Manchester Street, when a series of yelpsfrom ahead announced the presence of a party of merry-makers, whom wewere not yet able to see, however, for the night was an exceptionallydark one; but the sounds of revelry continued to increase in volume aswe proceeded, until, as we passed Sidmouth Street, we came in sight ofthe revellers. They were some half-dozen in number, all of them roughsof the hooligan type, and they were evidently in boisterous spirits,for, as they passed the entrance to the Royal Free Hospital, they haltedand battered furiously at the gate. Shortly after this exploit theycrossed the road on to our side, whereupon Thorndyke caught my arm andslackened his pace.

"Let them draw ahead," said he. "It is a wise precaution to give allhooligan gangs a very wide berth at this time of night. We had betterturn down Heathcote Street and cross Mecklenburgh Square."

We continued to walk on at reduced speed until we reached HeathcoteStreet, into which we turned and so entered Mecklenburgh Square, wherewe mended our pace once more.

"The hooligan," pursued Thorndyke, as we walked briskly across thesilent square, "covers a multitude of sins, ranging from highway robberywith violence and paid assassination (technically known as 'bashing')down to the criminal folly of the philanthropic magistrate, who seems tothink that his function in the economy of nature is to secure thesurvival of the unfittest. There goes a cyclist along Guildford Street.I wonder if that is our strenuous friend from the station. If so, he hasslipped past the hooligans."

We were just entering Doughty Street, and, as Thorndyke spoke, a man ona bicycle was visible for an instant at the crossing of the two streets.When we reached Guildford Street we both looked down the long,lamp-lighted vista, but the cyclist had vanished.

"We had better go straight on into Theobald's Road," said Thorndyke, andwe accordingly pursued our way up the fine old-world street, from whosetall houses our footfalls echoed, so that we seemed to be accompanied byan invisible multitude, until we reached that part where itunaccountably changes its name and becomes John Street.

"There always seems to me something very pathetic about these oldBloomsbury streets," said Thorndyke, "with their faded grandeur anddignified seediness. They remind me of some prim and aged gentlewoman inreduced circumstances who--Hallo! What was that?"

A faint, sharp thud from behind had been followed instantly by theshattering of a ground-floor window in front.

We both stopped dead and remained, for a couple of seconds, staring intothe gloom, from whence the first sound had come; then Thorndyke darteddiagonally across the road at a swift run and I immediately followed.

At the moment when the affair happened we had gone about forty yards upJohn Street, that is, from the place where it is crossed by HenryStreet, and we now raced across the road to the further corner of thelatter street. When we reached it, however, the little thoroughfare wasempty, and, as we paused for a moment, no sound of retreating footstepsbroke the silence.

"The shot certainly came from here!" said Thorndyke; "come on," and heagain broke into a run. A few yards up the street a mews turns off tothe left, and into this my companion plunged, motioning me to gostraight on, which I accordingly did, and in a few paces reached the topof the street. Here a narrow thoroughfare, with a broad, smoothpavement, bears off to the left, parallel with the mews, and, as Iarrived at the corner and glanced up the little street, I saw a man on abicycle gliding swiftly and silently towards Little James' Street.

With a mighty shout of "Stop thief!" I started in hot pursuit, but,though the man's feet were moving in an apparently leisurely manner, hedrew ahead at an astonishing pace, in spite of my efforts to overtakehim; and it then dawned upon me that the slow revolutions of his feetwere due, in reality, to the unusually high gear of the machine that hewas riding. As I realised this, and at the same moment recalled thebicycle that we had seen in the station, the fugitive swung round intoLittle James' Street and vanished.

The speed at which the man was travelling made further pursuit utterlyfutile, so I turned and walked back, panting and perspiring from theunwonted exertion. As I re-entered Henry Street, Thorndyke emerged fromthe mews and halted on seeing me.

"Cyclist?" he asked laconically, as I came up.

"Yes," I answered; "riding a machine geared up to about ninety."

"Ah! he must have followed us from the station," said Thorndyke. "Didyou notice if he was carrying anything?"

"He had a walking-stick in his hand. I didn't see anything else."

"What sort of walking-stick?"

"I couldn't see very distinctly. It was a stoutish stick--I should say aMalacca, probably--and it had what looked like a horn handle. I couldsee that as he passed a street lamp."

"What kind of lamp had he?"

"I couldn't see; but, as he turned the corner, I noticed that it seemedto burn very dimly."

"A little vaseline, or even oil, smeared on the outside of the glasswill reduce the glare of a lamp very appreciably," my companionremarked, "especially on a dusty road. Ha! here is the proprietor of thebroken window. He wants to know, you know."

We had once more turned into John Street and now perceived a man,standing on the wide doorstep of the house with the shattered window,looking anxiously up and down the street.

"Do either of you gents know anything about this here?" he asked,pointing to the broken pane.

"Yes," said Thorndyke, "we happened to be passing when it was done; infact," he added, "I rather suspect that the missile, whatever it was,was intended for our benefit."

"Oh!" said the man. "Who done it?"

"That I can't say," replied Thorndyke. "Whoever he was, he made off on abicycle and we were unable to catch him."

"Oh!" said the man once more, regarding us with growing suspicion. "On abicycle, hay! Dam funny, ain't it? What did he do it with?"

"That is what I should like to find out," said Thorndyke. "I see thishouse is empty."

"Yes, it's empty--leastways it's to let. I'm the caretaker. But what'sthat got to do with it?"

"Merely this," answered Thorndyke, "that the object--stone, bullet orwhatever it may have been--was aimed, I believe, at me, and I shouldlike to ascertain its nature. Would you do me the favour of permittingme to look for it?"

The caretaker was evidently inclined to refuse this request, for heglanced suspiciously from my companion to me once or twice beforereplying, but, at length, he turned towards the open door and grufflyinvited us to enter.

A paraffin lamp was on the floor in a recess of the hall, and this ourconductor took up when he had elosed the street door.

"This is the room," he said, turning the key and thrusting the dooropen; "the library they call it, but it's the front parlour in plainEnglish." He entered and, holding the lamp above his head, staredbalefully at the broken window.

Thorndyke glanced quickly along the floor in the direction that themissile would have taken, and then said--

"Do you see any mark on the wall there?"

As he spoke, he indicated the wall opposite the window, which obviouslycould not have been struck by a projectile entering with such extremeobliquity; and I was about to point out this fact when I fortunatelyremembered the great virtue of silence.

Our friend approached the wall, still holding up the lamp, andscrutinised the surface with close attention; and while he was thusengaged, I observed Thorndyke stoop quickly and pick up something, whichhe deposited carefully, and without remark, in his waistcoat pocket.

"I don't see no bruise anywhere," said the caretaker, sweeping his handover the wall.

"Perhaps the thing struck this wall," suggested Thorndyke, pointing tothe one that was actually in the line of fire. "Yes, of course," headded, "it would be this one--the shot came from Henry Street."

The caretaker crossed the room and threw the light of his lamp on thewall thus indicated.

"Ah! here we are!" he exclaimed, with gloomy satisfaction, pointing to asmall dent in which the wall-paper was turned back and the plasterexposed; "looks almost like a bullet mark, but you say you didn't hearno report."

"No," said Thorndyke, "there was no report; it must have been acatapult."

The caretaker set the lamp down on the floor and proceeded to gropeabout for the projectile, in which operation we both assisted; and Icould not suppress a faint smile as I noted the earnestness with whichThorndyke peered about the floor in search of the missile that wasquietly reposing in his waistcoat pocket.

We were deep in our investigations when there was heard anuncompromising double knock at the street door, followed by the loudpealing of a bell in the basement.

"Bobby, I suppose," growled the caretaker. "Here's a blooming fuss aboutnothing." He caught up the lamp and went out, leaving us in the dark.

"I picked it up, you know," said Thorndyke, when we were alone.

"I saw you," I answered.

"Good; I applaud your discretion," he rejoined. The caretaker'ssupposition was correct. When he returned, he was accompanied by a burlyconstable, who saluted us with a cheerful smile and glanced facetiouslyround the empty room.

"Our boys," said he, nodding towards the broken window; "they're playfullads, that they are. You were passing when it happened, sir, I hear.""Yes," answered Thorndyke; and he gave the constable a brief account ofthe occurrence, which the latter listened to, notebook in hand.

"Well," said he when the narrative was concluded, "if those hooliganboys are going to take to catapults they'll make things lively allround."

"You ought to run some of 'em in," said the caretaker.

"Run 'em in!" exclaimed the constable in a tone of disgust; "yes! Andthen the magistrate will tell 'em to be good boys and give 'em fiveshillings out of the poor-box to buy illustrated Testaments. I'dTestament them, the worthless varmints!"

He rammed his notebook fiercely into his pocket and stalked out of theroom into the street, whither we followed.

"You'll find that bullet or stone when you sweep up the room," he said,as he turned on to his beat; "and you'd better let us have it. Goodnight, sir."

He strolled off towards Henry Street, while Thorndyke and I resumed ourjourney southward.

"Why were you so secret about that projectile?" I asked my friend as wewalked up the street.

"Partly to avoid discussion with the caretaker," he replied; "butprincipally because I thought it likely that a constable would pass thehouse and, seeing the light, come in to make inquiries."

"And then?"

"Then I should have had to hand over the object to him." "And why not?Is the object a specially interesting one?"

"It is highly interesting to me at the present moment," repliedThorndyke, with a chuckle, "because I have not examined it. I have atheory as to its nature, which theory I should like to test beforetaking the police into my confidence."

"Are you going to take me into your confidence?" I asked.

"When we get home, if you are not too sleepy," he replied.

On our arrival at his chambers, Thorndyke desired me to light up andclear one end of the table while he went up to the workshop to fetchsome tools. I turned back the table cover, and, having adjusted the gasso as to light this part of the table, waited in some impatience for mycolleague's return. In a few minutes he re-entered bearing a small vice,a metal saw and a wide-mouthed bottle.

"What have you got in that bottle?" I asked, perceiving a metal objectinside it.

"That is the projectile, which I have thought fit to rinse in distilledwater, for reasons that will presently appear."

He agitated the bottle gently for a minute or so, and then, with a pairof dissecting forceps, lifted out the object and held it above thesurface of the water to drain, after which he laid it carefully on apiece of blotting-paper.

I stooped over the projectile and examined it with great curiosity,while Thorndyke stood by regarding me with almost equal interest.

"Well," he said, after watching me in silence for some time, "what doyou see?"

"I see a small brass cylinder," I answered, "about two inches long andrather thicker than an ordinary lead pencil. One end is conical, andthere is a small hole at the apex which seems to contain a steel point;the other end is flat, but has in the centre a small square projectionsuch as might fit a watch-key. I notice also a small hole in the side ofthe cylinder close to the flat end. The thing looks like a miniatureshell, and appears to be hollow."

"It is hollow," said Thorndyke. "You must have observed that, when Iheld it up to drain, the water trickled out through the hole at thepointed end."

"Yes, I noticed that."

"Now take it up and shake it."

I did so and felt some heavy object rattle inside it.

"There is some loose body inside it," I said, "which fits it prettyclosely, as it moves only in the long diameter."

"Quite so; your description is excellent. And now, what is the nature ofthis projectile?"

"I should say it is a miniature shell or explosive bullet."

"Wrong!" said Thorndyke. "A very natural inference, but a wrong one."

"Then what is the thing?" I demanded, my curiosity still furtheraroused.

"I will show you," he replied. "It is something much more subtle than anexplosive bullet--which would really be a rather crudeappliance--admirably thought out and thoroughly well executed. We haveto deal with a most ingenious and capable man."

I was fain to laugh at his enthusiastic appreciation of the methods ofhis would-be assassin, and the humour of the situation then appeared todawn on him, for he said, with an apologetic smile--

"I am not expressing approval, you must understand, but merelyprofessional admiration. It is this class of criminal that creates thenecessity for my services. He is my patron, so to speak; my ultimateemployer. For the common crook can be dealt with quite efficiently bythe common policeman!"

While he was speaking he had been fitting the little cylinder betweentwo pads of tissue-paper in the vice, which he now screwed up tight.Then, with the fine metal saw, he began to cut the projectile,lengthwise, into two slightly unequal parts. This operation took sometime, especially since he was careful not to cut the loose body inside,but at length the section was completed and the interior of the cylinderexposed, when he released it from the vice and held it up before me withan expression of triumph.

"Now, what do you make it?" he demanded.

I took the object in my fingers and looked at it closely, but was atfirst more puzzled than before. The loose body I now saw to be acylinder of lead about half an inch long, accurately fitting the insideof the cylinder but capable of slipping freely backwards and forwards.The steel point which I had noticed in the hole at the apex of theconical end, was now seen to be the pointed termination of a slendersteel rod which projected fully an inch into the cavity of the cylinder,and the conical end itself was a solid mass of lead.

"Well?" queried Thorndyke, seeing that I was still silent.

"You tell me it is not an explosive bullet," I replied, "otherwise Ishould have been confirmed in that opinion. I should have said that thepercussion cap was carried by this lead plunger and struck on the end ofthat steel rod when the flight of the bullet was suddenly arrested."

"Very good indeed," said Thorndyke. "You are right so far that this is,in fact, the mechanism of a percussion shell.

"But look at this. You see this little rod was driven inside the bulletwhen the latter struck the wall. Let us replace it in its originalposition."

He laid the end of a small flat file against the end of the rod andpressed it firmly, when the rod slid through the hole until it projectedan inch beyond the apex of the cone. Then he handed the projectile backto me.

A single glance at the point of the steel rod made the whole thingclear, and I gave a whistle of consternation; for the "rod" was a finetube with a sharply pointed end.

"The infernal scoundrel!" I exclaimed; "it is a hypodermic needle."

"Yes. A veterinary hypodermic, of extra large bore. Now you see thesubtlety and ingenuity of the whole thing. If he had had a reasonablechance he would certainly have succeeded."

"You speak quite regretfully," I said, laughing again at the oddity ofhis attitude towards the assassin.

"Not at all," he replied. "I have the character of a single-handedplayer, but even the most self-reliant man can hardly make a_post-mortem_ on himself. I am merely appreciating an admirable piece ofmechanical design most efficiently carried out. Observe thecompleteness of the thing, and the way in which all the necessities ofthe case are foreseen and met. This projectile was discharged from apowerful air-gun--the walking-stick form--provided with a force-pump andkey. The barrel of that gun was rifled."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Well, to begin with, it would be useless to fit a needle to theprojectile unless the latter was made to travel with the point forwards;but there is direct evidence that the barrel was rifled. You notice thelittle square projection on the back surface of the cylinder. That wasevidently made to fit a washer or wad--probably a thin plate of softmetal which would be driven by the pressure from behind into the groovesof the rifling and thus give a spinning motion to the bullet. When thelatter left the barrel, the wad would drop off, leaving it free."

"I see. I was wondering what the square projection was for. It is, asyou say, extremely ingenious."

"Highly ingenious," said Thorndyke, enthusiastically, "and so is thewhole device. See how perfectly it would have worked but for a merefluke and for the complication of your presence. Supposing that I hadbeen alone, so that he could have approached to a shorter distance. Inthat case he would not have missed, and the thing would have been done.You see how it was intended to be done, I suppose?"

"I think so," I answered; "but I should like to hear your account of theprocess."

"Well, you see, he first finds out that I am returning by a latetrain--which he seems to have done--and he waits for me at the terminus.Meanwhile he fills the cylinder with a solution of a powerful alkaloidalpoison, which is easily done by dipping the needle into the liquid andsucking at the small hole near the back end, when the piston will bedrawn up and the liquid will follow it. You notice that the upper sideof the piston is covered with vaseline--introduced through the hole, nodoubt--which would prevent the poison from coming out into the mouth,and make the cylinder secure from leakage. On my arrival, he follows meon his bicycle until I pass through a sufficiently secludedneighbourhood. Then he approaches me, or passes me and waits round acorner, and shoots at pretty close range. It doesn't matter where hehits me; all parts are equally vital, so he can aim at the middle of myback. Then the bullet comes spinning through the air point foremost; theneedle passes through the clothing and enters the flesh, and, as thebullet is suddenly stopped, the heavy piston flies down by its own greatmomentum and squirts out a jet of the poison into the tissues. Thebullet then disengages itself and drops on to the ground.

"Meanwhile, our friend has mounted his bicycle and is off, and when Ifeel the prick of the needle, I turn, and, without stopping to look forthe bullet, immediately give chase. I am, of course, not able toovertake a man on a racing machine, but still I follow him somedistance. Then the poison begins to take effect--the more rapidly fromthe violent exercise--and presently I drop insensible. Later on, my bodyis found. There are no marks of violence, and probably theneedle-puncture escapes observation at the _post-mortem_, in which casethe verdict will be death from heart-failure. Even if the poison and thepuncture are discovered, there is no clue. The bullet lies some streetsaway, and is probably picked up by some boy or passing stranger, whocannot conjecture its use, and who would never connect it with the manwho was found dead. You will admit that the whole plan has been workedout with surprising completeness and foresight." "Yes," I answered;"there is no doubt that the fellow is a most infernally cleverscoundrel. May I ask if you have any idea who he is?"

"Well," Thorndyke replied, "seeing that, as Carlyle has unkindly pointedout, clever people are not in an overwhelming majority, and that, of theclever people whom I know, only a very few are interested in myimmediate demise, I am able to form a fairly probable conjecture."

"And what do you mean to do?"

"For the present I shall maintain an attitude of masterly inactivity andavoid the night air."

"But, surely," I exclaimed, "you will take some measures to protectyourself against attempts of this kind. You can hardly doubt now thatyour accident in the fog was really an attempted murder."

"I never did doubt it, as a matter of fact, although I prevaricated atthe time. But I have not enough evidence against this man at present,and, consequently, can do nothing but show that I suspect him, whichwould be foolish. Whereas, if I lie low, one of two things will happen;either the occasion for my removal (which is only a temporary one) willpass, or he will commit himself--will put a definite clue into my hands.Then we shall find the air-cane, the bicycle, perhaps a little stock ofpoison, and certain other trifles that I have in my mind, which will begood confirmatory evidence, though insufficient in themselves. And now,I think, I must really adjourn this meeting, or we shall be good fornothing to-morrow."

CHAPTER XII

IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN

It was now only a week from the date on which the trial was to open. Ineight days the mystery would almost certainly be solved (if it wascapable of solution), for the trial promised to be quite a short one,and then Reuben Hornby would be either a convicted felon or a free man,clear of the stigma of the crime.

For several days past, Thorndyke had been in almost constant possessionof the laboratory, while his own small room, devoted ordinarily tobacteriology and microscopical work was kept continually locked; a stateof things that reduced Polton to a condition of the most extreme nervousirritation, especially when, as he told me indignantly, he met Mr.Anstey emerging from the holy of holies, grinning and rubbing his handsand giving utterance to genial but unparliamentary expressions of amusedsatisfaction.

I had met Anstey on several occasions lately, and each time liked himbetter than the last; for his whimsical, facetious manner covered anature (as it often does) that was serious and thoughtful; and I foundhim, not only a man of considerable learning, but one also of a loftystandard of conduct. His admiration for Thorndyke was unbounded, and Icould see that the two men collaborated with the utmost sympathy andmutual satisfaction.

But although I regarded Mr. Anstey with feelings of the liveliestfriendship, I was far from gratified when, on the morning of which I amwriting, I observed him from our sitting-room window crossing thegravelled space from Crown Office Row and evidently bearing down on ourchambers. For the fact is that I was awaiting the arrival of Juliet, andshould greatly have preferred to be alone at the moment, seeing thatThorndyke had already gone out. It is true that my fair enslaver was notdue for nearly half-an-hour, but then, who could say how long Ansteywould stay, or what embarrassments might arise from my efforts toescape? By all of which it may be perceived that my disease had reacheda very advanced stage, and that I was unequal to those tactics ofconcealment that are commonly attributed to the ostrich.

A sharp rap of the knocker announced the arrival of the disturber of mypeace, and when I opened the door Anstey walked in with the air of a manto whom an hour more or less is of no consequence whatever. He shook myhand with mock solemnity, and, seating himself upon the edge of thetable, proceeded to roll a cigarette with exasperating deliberation.

"I infer," said he, "that our learned brother is practising parlourmagic upstairs, or peradventure he has gone on a journey?"

"He has a consultation this morning," I answered. "Was he expectingyou?"

"Evidently not, or he would have been here. No, I just looked in to aska question about the case of your friend Hornby. You know it comes onfor trial next week?"

"Yes; Thorndyke told me. What do you think of Hornby's prospects? Is hegoing to be convicted, or will he get an acquittal?"

"_He_ will be entirely passive," replied Anstey, "but _we_"--here heslapped his chest impressively--"are going to secure an acquittal. Youwill be highly entertained, my learned friend, and Mr. The Enemy will beexcessively surprised." He inspected the newly-made cigarette with acritical air and chuckled softly.

"You seem pretty confident," I remarked.

"I am," he answered, "though Thorndyke considers failurepossible--which, of course, it is if the jury-box should chance to befilled with microcephalic idiots and the judge should prove incapable ofunderstanding simple technical evidence. But we hope that neither ofthese things will happen, and, if they do not, we feel pretty safe. Bythe way, I hope I am not divulging your principal's secrets?"

"Well," I replied, with a smile, "you have been more explicit thanThorndyke ever has."

"Have I?" he exclaimed, with mock anxiety; "then I must swear you tosecrecy. Thorndyke is so very close--and he is quite right too. I nevercease admiring his tactics of allowing the enemy to fortify andbarricade the entrance that he does _not_ mean to attack. But I see youare wishing me at the devil, so give me a cigar and I will go--thoughnot to that particular destination."

"Will you have one of Thorndyke's special brand?" I asked malignantly.

"What! those foul Trichinopolies? Not while brown paper is to beobtained at every stationer's; I'd sooner smoke my own wig."

I tendered my own case, from which he selected a cigar with anxious careand much sniffing; then he bade me a ceremonious adieu and departed downthe stairs, blithely humming a melody from the latest comic opera.

He had not left more than five minutes when a soft and elaboraterat-tat from the little brass knocker brought my heart into my mouth. Iran to the door and flung it open, revealing Juliet standing on thethreshold.

"May I come in?" she asked. "I want to have a few words with you beforewe start."

I looked at her with some anxiety, for she was manifestly agitated, andthe hand that she held out to me trembled.

"I am greatly upset, Dr. Jervis," she said, ignoring the chair that Ihad placed for her. "Mr. Lawley has been giving us his views of poorReuben's case, and his attitude fills me with dismay."

"I didn't go to him; he came to us. He dined with us last night--he andWalter--and his manner was gloomy in the extreme. After dinner Waltertook him apart with me and asked him what he really thought of the case.He was most pessimistic. 'My dear sir,' he said, 'the only advice I cangive you is that you prepare yourself to contemplate disaster asphilosophically as you can. In my opinion your cousin is almost certainto be convicted.' 'But,' said Walter, 'what about the defence? Iunderstood that there was at least a plausible case.' Mr. Lawleyshrugged his shoulders. 'I have a sort of _alibi_ that will go fornothing, but I have no evidence to offer in answer to that of theprosecution, and no case; and I may say, speaking in confidence, that Ido not believe there is any case. I do not see how there can be anycase, and I have heard nothing from Dr. Thorndyke to lead me to supposethat he has really done anything in the matter.' Is this true, Dr.Jervis? Oh! do tell me the real truth about it! I have been so miserableand terrified since I heard this, and I was so full of hope before. Tellme, is it true? Will Reuben be sent to prison after all?"

In her agitation she laid her hands on my arm and looked up into my facewith her grey eyes swimming with tears, and was so piteous, so trustful,and, withal, so bewitching that my reserve melted like snow before aJuly sun.

"It is not true," I answered, taking her hands in mine and speakingperforce in a low tone that I might not betray my emotion. "If it were,it would mean that I have wilfully deceived you, that I have been falseto our friendship; and how much that friendship has been to me, no onebut myself will ever know."

She crept a little closer to me with a manner at once penitent andwheedling.

"You are not going to be angry with me, are you? It was foolish of me tolisten to Mr. Lawley after all you have told me, and it did look like awant of trust in you, I know. But you, who are so strong and wise, mustmake allowance for a woman who is neither. It is all so terrible that Iam quite unstrung; but say you are not really displeased with me, forthat would hurt me most of all."

Oh! Delilah! That concluding stroke of the shears severed the very lastlock, and left me--morally speaking--as bald as a billiard ball.Henceforth I was at her mercy and would have divulged, without ascruple, the uttermost secrets of my principal, but that that astutegentleman had placed me beyond the reach of temptation.

"As to being angry with you," I answered, "I am not, like Thorndyke, oneto essay the impossible, and if I could be angry it would hurt me morethan it would you. But, in fact, you are not to blame at all, and I aman egotistical brute. Of course you were alarmed and distressed; nothingcould be more natural. So now let me try to chase away your fears andrestore your confidence.

"I have told you what Thorndyke said to Reuben: that he had good hopesof making his innocence clear to everybody. That alone should have beenenough."

"But," I continued, "I can quote you the words of one to whose opinionsyou will attach more weight. Mr. Anstey was here less than half-an-hourago--"

"Do you mean Reuben's counsel?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say? Oh, do tell me what he said."

"He said, in brief, that he was quite confident of obtaining anacquittal, and that the prosecution would receive a great surprise. Heseemed highly pleased with his brief, and spoke with great admiration ofThorndyke."

"Did he really say that--that he was confident of an acquittal?" Hervoice was breathless and unsteady, and she was clearly, as she had said,quite unstrung. "What a relief it is," she murmured incoherently; "andso very, very kind of you!" She wiped her eyes and laughed a queer,shaky little laugh; then, quite suddenly, she burst into a passion ofsobbing.

Hardly conscious of what I did, I drew her gently towards me, and restedher head on my shoulder whilst I whispered into her ear I know not whatwords of consolation; but I am sure that I called her "dear Juliet," andprobably used other expressions equally improper and reprehensible.Presently she recovered herself, and, having dried her eyes, regarded mesomewhat shamefacedly, blushing hotly, but smiling very sweetlynevertheless.

"I am ashamed of myself," she said, "coming here and weeping on yourbosom like a great baby. It is to be hoped that your other clients donot behave in this way."

Whereat we both laughed heartily, and, our emotional equilibrium beingthus restored, we began to think of the object of our meeting.

"I am afraid I have wasted a great deal of time," said Juliet, lookingat her watch. "Shall we be too late, do you think?"

"I hope not," I replied, "for Reuben will be looking for us; but we musthurry."

I caught up my hat, and we went forth, closing the oak behind us, andtook our way up King's Bench Walk in silence, but with a new anddelightful sense of intimate comradeship. I glanced from time to time atmy companion, and noted that her cheek still bore a rosy flush, and whenshe looked at me there was a sparkle in her eye, and a smiling softnessin her glance, that stirred my heart until I trembled with the intensityof the passion that I must needs conceal. And even while I was feelingthat I must tell her all, and have done with it, tell her that I was herabject slave, and she my goddess, my queen; that in the face of such alove as mine no man could have any claim upon her; even then, therearose the still, small voice that began to call me an unfaithful stewardand to remind me of a duty and trust that were sacred even beyond love.

In Fleet Street I hailed a cab, and, as I took my seat beside my faircompanion, the voice began to wax and speak in bolder and sterneraccents.

"Christopher Jervis," it said, "what is this that you are doing? Are youa man of honour or nought but a mean, pitiful blackguard? You, thetrusted agent of this poor, misused gentleman, are you not planning inyour black heart how you shall rob him of that which, if he is a man atall, must be more to him than his liberty, or even his honour? Shame onyou for a miserable weakling! Have done with these philanderings andkeep your covenants like a gentleman--or, at least, an honest man!"

At this point in my meditations Juliet turned towards me with a coaxingsmile.

"My legal adviser seems to be revolving some deep and weighty matter,"she said.

I pulled myself together and looked at her--at her sparkling eyes androsy, dimpling cheeks, so winsome and lovely and lovable.

"Come," I thought, "I must put an end to this at once, or I am lost."But it cost me a very agony of effort to do it--which agony, I trust,may be duly set to my account by those who may sit in judgement on me.

"Your legal adviser, Miss Gibson," I said (and at that "Miss Gibson" Ithought she looked at me a little queerly), "has been reflecting that hehas acted considerably beyond his jurisdiction."

"In what respect?" she asked.

"In passing on to you information which was given to him in very strictconfidence, and, in fact, with an implied promise of secrecy on hispart."

"But the information was not of a very secret character, was it?"

"More so than it appeared. You see, Thorndyke thinks it so important notto let the prosecution suspect that he has anything up his sleeve, thathe has kept even Mr. Lawley in the dark, and he has never said as muchto me as Anstey did this morning."

"And now you are sorry you told me; you think I have led you into abreach of trust. Is it not so?" She spoke without a trace of petulance,and her tone of dignified self-accusation made me feel a veritable worm.

"My dear Miss Gibson," I expostulated, "you entirely misunderstand me. Iam not in the least sorry that I told you. How could I have doneotherwise under the circumstances? But I want you to understand that Ihave taken the responsibility of communicating to you what is really aprofessional secret, and that you are to consider it as such."

"That was how I understood it," replied Juliet; "and you may rely uponme not to utter a syllable on the subject to anyone."

I thanked her for this promise, and then, by way of making conversation,gave her an account in detail of Anstey's visit, not even omitting theincident of the cigar.

"And are Dr. Thorndyke's cigars so extraordinarily bad?" she asked.

"Not at all," I replied; "only they are not to every man's taste. TheTrichinopoly cheroot is Thorndyke's one dissipation, and, I must say, hetakes it very temperately. Under ordinary circumstances he smokes apipe; but after a specially heavy day's work, or on any occasion offestivity or rejoicing, he indulges in a Trichinopoly, and he smokes thevery best that can be got."

"So even the greatest men have their weaknesses," Juliet moralised; "butI wish I had known Dr. Thorndyke's sooner, for Mr. Hornby had a largebox of Trichinopoly cheroots given to him, and I believe they wereexceptionally fine ones. However, he tried one and didn't like it, so hetransferred the whole consignment to Walter, who smokes all sorts andconditions of cigars."

So we talked on from one commonplace to another, and each moreconventional than the last. In my nervousness, I overdid my part, andhaving broken the ice, proceeded to smash it to impalpable fragments.Endeavouring merely to be unemotional and to avoid undue intimacy ofmanner, I swung to the opposite extreme and became almost stiff; andperhaps the more so since I was writhing with the agony of repression.

Meanwhile a corresponding change took place in my companion. At firsther manner seemed doubtful and bewildered; then she, too, grew moredistant and polite and less disposed for conversation. Perhaps herconscience began to rebuke her, or it may be that my coolness suggestedto her that her conduct had not been quite of the kind that would havecommended itself to Reuben. But however that may have been, we continuedto draw farther and farther apart; and in that short half-hour weretraced the steps of our growing friendship to such purpose that, whenwe descended from the cab at the prison gate, we seemed more likestrangers than on the first day that we met. It was a miserable endingto all our delightful comradeship, and yet what other end could oneexpect in this world of cross purposes and things that might have been?In the extremity of my wretchedness I could have wept on the bosom ofthe portly warder who opened the wicket, even as Juliet had wept uponmine; and it was almost a relief to me, when our brief visit was over,to find that we should not return together to King's Cross as was ourwont, but that Juliet would go back by omnibus that she might do someshopping in Oxford Street, leaving me to walk home alone.

I saw her into her omnibus, and stood on the pavement looking wistfullyat the lumbering vehicle as it dwindled in the distance. At last, with asigh of deepest despondency, I turned my face homeward, and, walkinglike one in a dream, retraced the route over which I had journeyed sooften of late and with such different sensations.

CHAPTER XIII

MURDER BY POST

The next few days were perhaps the most unhappy that I have known. Mylife, indeed, since I had left the hospital had been one of manydisappointments and much privation. Unfulfilled desires and ambitionsunrealised had combined with distaste for the daily drudgery that hadfallen to my lot to embitter my poverty and cause me to look with gloomydistrust upon the unpromising future. But no sorrow that I had hithertoexperienced could compare with the grief that I now felt incontemplating the irretrievable ruin of what I knew to be the greatpassion of my life. For to a man like myself, of few friends and deepaffections, one great emotional upheaval exhausts the possibilities ofnature; leaving only the capacity for feeble and ineffective echoes. Theedifice of love that is raised upon the ruins of a great passion cancompare with the original no more than can the paltry mosque thatperches upon the mound of Jonah with the glories of the palace that liesentombed beneath. I had made a pretext to write to Juliet and hadreceived a reply quite frank and friendly in tone, by which I knew thatshe had not--as some women would have done--set the blame upon me forour temporary outburst of emotion. And yet there was a subtle differencefrom her previous manner of writing that only emphasised the finality ofour separation.

I think Thorndyke perceived that something had gone awry, though I wasat great pains to maintain a cheerful exterior and keep myself occupied,and he probably formed a pretty shrewd guess at the nature of thetrouble; but he said nothing, and I only judged that he had observedsome change in my manner by the fact that there was blended with hisusual quiet geniality an almost insensible note of sympathy andaffection.

A couple of days after my last interview with Juliet, an event occurredwhich served, certainly, to relieve the tension and distract mythoughts, though not in a very agreeable manner.

It was the pleasant, reposeful hour after dinner when it was our customto sit in our respective easy chairs and, as we smoked our pipes,discuss some of the many topics in which we had a common interest. Thepostman had just discharged into the capacious letter-box an avalancheof letters and circulars, and as I sat glancing through the solitaryletter that had fallen to my share, I looked from time to time atThorndyke and noticed, as I had often done before, with some surprise, acurious habit that he had of turning over and closely scrutinising everyletter and package before he opened it.

"I observe, Thorndyke," I now ventured to remark, "that you alwaysexamine the outside of a letter before looking at the inside. I haveseen other people do the same, and it has always appeared to me asingularly foolish proceeding. Why speculate over an unopened letterwhen a glance at the contents will tell you all there is to know?"

"You are perfectly right," he answered, "if the object of the inspectionis to discover who is the sender of the letter. But that is not myobject. In my case the habit is one that has been deliberatelycultivated--not in reference to letters only, but to everything thatcomes into my hands--the habit of allowing nothing to pass without acertain amount of conscious attention. The observant man is, in reality,the attentive man, and the so-called power of observation is simply thecapacity for continuous attention. As a matter of fact, I have found inpractice, that the habit is a useful one even in reference to letters;more than once I have gleaned a hint from the outside of a letter thathas proved valuable when applied to the contents. Here, for instance, isa letter which has been opened after being fastened up--apparently bythe aid of steam. The envelope is soiled and rubbed, and smells faintlyof stale tobacco, and has evidently been carried in a pocket along witha well-used pipe. Why should it have been opened? On reading it Iperceive that it should have reached me two days ago, and that the datehas been skilfully altered from the thirteenth to the fifteenth. Theinference is that my correspondent has a highly untrustworthy clerk."

"But the correspondent may have carried the letter in his own pocket," Iobjected.

"Hardly," replied Thorndyke. "He would not have troubled to steam hisown letter open and close it again; he would have cut the envelope andaddressed a fresh one. This the clerk could not do, because the letterwas confidential and was addressed in the principal's handwriting. Andthe principal would have almost certainly added a postscript; and,moreover, he does not smoke. This, however, is all very obvious; buthere is something rather more subtle which I have put aside for moredetailed examination. What do you make of it?"

He handed me a small parcel to which was attached by string atypewritten address label, the back of which bore the printedinscription, "James Bartlett and Sons, Cigar Manufacturers, London andHavana."

"I am afraid," said I, after turning the little packet over andexamining every part of it minutely, "that this is rather too subtle forme. The only thing that I observe is that the typewriter has bungled theaddress considerably. Otherwise this seems to me a very ordinary packetindeed."

"Well, you have observed one point of interest, at any rate," saidThorndyke, taking the packet from me. "But let us examine the thingsystematically and note down what we see. In the first place, you willnotice that the label is an ordinary luggage label such as you may buyat any stationer's, with its own string attached. Now, manufacturerscommonly use a different and more substantial pattern, which is attachedby the string of the parcel. But that is a small matter. What is muchmore striking is the address on the label. It is typewritten and, as yousay, typed very badly. Do you know anything about typewriters?"

"Very little."

"Then you do not recognise the machine? Well, this label was typed witha Blickensderfer--an excellent machine, but not the form most commonlyselected for the rough work of a manufacturer's office; but we will letthat pass. The important point is this: the Blickensderfer Company makeseveral forms of machine, the smallest and lightest of which is theliterary, specially designed for the use of journalists and men ofletters. Now this label was typed with the literary machine, or, atleast, with the literary typewheel; which is really a very remarkablecircumstance indeed."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"By this asterisk, which has been written by mistake, the inexpertoperator having pressed down the figure lever instead of the one forcapitals. The literary typewheel is the only one that has an asterisk,as I noticed when I was thinking of purchasing a machine. Here, then, wehave a very striking fact, for even if a manufacturer chose to use a'Blick' in his factory, it is inconceivable that he should select theliterary form in preference to the more suitable 'commercial' machine."

"Yes," I agreed; "it is certainly very singular."

"And now," pursued Thorndyke, "to consider the writing itself. It hasbeen done by an absolute beginner. He has failed to space in two places,he has written five wrong letters, and he has written figures instead ofcapitals in two instances."

"Yes; he has made a shocking muddle of it. I wonder he didn't throw thelabel away and type another."

"Precisely," said Thorndyke. "And if we wish to find out why he did not,we have only to look at the back of the label. You see that the name ofthe firm, instead of being printed on the label itself in the usualmanner, is printed on a separate slip of paper which is pasted on thelabel--a most foolish and clumsy arrangement, involving an immense wasteof time. But if we look closely at the printed slip itself we perceivesomething still more remarkable; for that slip has been cut down to fitthe label, and has been cut with a pair of scissors. The edges are notquite straight, and in one place the 'overlap,' which is socharacteristic of the cut made with scissors, can be seen quiteplainly."

He handed the packet to me with a reading-lens, through which I coulddistinctly make out the points he had mentioned.

"Now I need not point out to you," he continued, "that these slipswould, ordinarily, have been trimmed by the printer to the correct sizein his machine, which would leave an absolutely true edge; nor need Isay that no sane business man would adopt such a device as this. Theslip of paper has been cut with scissors to fit the label, and it hasthen been pasted on to the surface that it has been made to fit, whenall this waste of time and trouble--which, in practice, meansmoney--could have been saved by printing the name on the label itself."

"Yes, that is so; but I still do not see why the fellow should not havethrown away this label and typed another."

"Look at the slip again," said Thorndyke. "It is faintly but evenlydiscoloured and, to me, has the appearance of having been soaked inwater. Let us, for the moment, assume that it has been. That would lookas if it had been removed from some other package, which again wouldsuggest that the person using it had only the one slip, which he hadsoaked off the original package, dried, cut down and pasted on thepresent label. If he pasted it on before typing the address--which hewould most probably have done--he might well be unwilling to riskdestroying it by soaking it a second time."

"You think, then, there is a suspicion that the package may have beentampered with?"

"There is no need to jump to conclusions," replied Thorndyke. "I merelygave this case as an instance showing that careful examination of theoutside of a package or letter may lead us to bestow a little extraattention on the contents. Now let us open it and see what thosecontents are."

With a sharp knife he divided the outside cover, revealing a stoutcardboard box wrapped in a number of advertisement sheets. The box, whenthe lid was raised, was seen to contain a single cigar--a largecheroot--packed in cotton wool.

"A 'Trichy,' by Jove!" I exclaimed. "Your own special fancy, Thorndyke."

"Yes; and another anomaly, at once, you see, which might have escapedour notice if we had not been on the _qui vive_."

"As a matter of fact, I _don't_ see," said I. "You will think me anawful blockhead, but I don't perceive anything singular in a cigarmanufacturer sending a sample cigar."

"You read the label, I think?" replied Thorndyke. "However, let us lookat one of these leaflets and see what they say. Ah! here we are:'Messrs. Bartlett and Sons, who own extensive plantations on the islandof Cuba, manufacture their cigars exclusively from selected leaves grownby themselves.' They would hardly make a Trichinopoly cheroot from leafgrown in the West Indies, so we have here a striking anomaly of an EastIndian cigar sent to us by a West Indian grower."

"And what do you infer from that?"

"Principally that this cigar--which, by the way, is an uncommonly finespecimen and which I would not smoke for ten thousand pounds--isdeserving of very attentive examination." He produced from his pocket apowerful doublet lens, with the aid of which he examined every part ofthe surface of the cigar, and finally, both ends. "Look at the smallend," he said, handing me the cigar and the lens, "and tell me if younotice anything."

I focussed the lens on the flush-cut surface of closely-rolled leaf, andexplored every part of it minutely.

"It seems to me," I said, "that the leaf is opened slightly in thecentre, as if a fine wire had been passed up it."

"So it appeared to me," replied Thorndyke; "and, as we are in agreementso far, we will carry our investigations a step further."

He laid the cigar down on the table, and, with the keen, thin-bladedpenknife, neatly divided it lengthwise into two halves.

"_Ecce signum_!" exclaimed Thorndyke, as the two parts fell asunder; andfor a few moments we stood silently regarding the dismembered cheroot.For, about half an inch from the small end, there appeared a littlecircular patch of white, chalky material which, by the even manner inwhich it was diffused among the leaf, had evidently been deposited froma solution.

"Our ingenious friend again, I surmise," said Thorndyke at length,taking up one of the halves and examining the white patch through hislens. "A thoughtful soul, Jervis, and original too. I wish his talentscould be applied in some other direction. I shall have to remonstratewith him if he becomes troublesome." "It is your duty to society,Thorndyke," I exclaimed passionately, "to have this infernal,cold-blooded scoundrel arrested instantly. Such a man is a standingmenace to the community. Do you really know who sent this thing?"

"I can form a pretty shrewd guess, which, however, is not quite the samething. But, you see, he has not been quite so clever this time, for hehas left one or two traces by which his identity might be ascertained."

"Indeed! What traces has he left?"

"Ah! now there is a nice little problem for us to consider." He settledhimself in his easy chair and proceeded to fill his pipe with the air ofa man who is about to discuss a matter of merely general interest.

"Let us consider what information this ingenious person has given usabout himself. In the first place, he evidently has a strong interest inmy immediate decease. Now, why should he feel so urgent a desire for mydeath? Can it be a question of property? Hardly; for I am far from arich man, and the provisions of my will are known to me alone. Can itthen be a question of private enmity or revenge? I think not. To thebest of my belief I have no private enemies whatever. There remains onlymy vocation as an investigator in the fields of legal and criminalresearch. His interest in my death must, therefore, be connected with myprofessional activities. Now, I am at present conducting an exhumationwhich may lead to a charge of murder; but if I were to die to-night theinquiry would be carried out with equal efficiency by Professor Spiceror some other toxicologist. My death would not affect the prospects ofthe accused. And so in one or two other cases that I have in hand; theycould be equally well conducted by someone else. The inference is thatour friend is not connected with any of these cases, but that hebelieves me to possess some exclusive information concerninghim--believes me to be the one person in the world who suspects and canconvict him. Let us assume the existence of such a person--a person ofwhose guilt I alone have evidence. Now this person, being unaware that Ihave communicated my knowledge to a third party, would reasonablysuppose that by making away with me he had put himself in a position ofsecurity.

"Here, then, is our first point. The sender of this offering is probablya person concerning whom I hold certain exclusive information.

"But see, now, the interesting corollary that follows from this. I,alone, suspect this person; therefore I have not published mysuspicions, or others would suspect him too. Why, then, does he suspectme of suspecting him, since I have not spoken? Evidently, he too must bein possession of exclusive information. In other words, my suspicionsare correct; for if they were not, he could not be aware of theirexistence.

"The next point is the selection of this rather unusual type of cigar.Why should he have sent a Trichinopoly instead of an ordinary Havanasuch as Bartletts actually manufacture? It looks as if he were aware ofmy peculiar predilection, and, by thus consulting my personal tastes,had guarded against the chance of my giving the cigar to some otherperson. We may, therefore, infer that our friend probably has someknowledge of my habits.

"The third point is, What is the social standing of this gentlestranger, whom we will call X? Now, Bartletts do not send theiradvertisements and samples to Thomas, Richard and Henry. They send,chiefly, to members of the professions and men of means and position. Itis true that the original package might have been annexed by a clerk,office boy or domestic servant; but the probabilities are that Xreceived the package himself, and this is borne out by the fact that hewas able to obtain access to a powerful alkaloidal poison--such as thisundoubtedly is."

"In that case he would probably be a medical man or a chemist," Isuggested.

"Not necessarily," replied Thorndyke. "The laws relating to poisons areso badly framed and administered that any well-to-do person, who has thenecessary knowledge, can obtain almost any poison that he wants. Butsocial position is an important factor, whence we may conclude that Xbelongs, at least, to the middle class.

"The fourth point relates to the personal qualities of X. Now it isevident, from this instance alone, that he is a man of exceptionalintelligence, of considerable general information, and both ingeniousand resourceful. This cigar device is not only clever and original, butit has been adapted to the special circumstances with remarkableforethought. Thus the cheroot was selected, apparently, for twoexcellent reasons: first, that it was the most likely form to be smokedby the person intended, and second, that it did not require to have theend cut off--which might have led to a discovery of the poison. The planalso shows a certain knowledge of chemistry; the poison was not intendedmerely to be dissolved in the moisture of the mouth. The idea evidentlywas that the steam generated by the combustion of the leaf at thedistal end, would condense in the cooler part of the cigar and dissolvethe poison, and the solution would then be drawn into the mouth. Thenthe nature of the poison and certain similarities of procedure seem toidentify X with the cyclist who used that ingenious bullet. The poisonin this case is a white, non-crystalline solid; the poison contained inthe bullet was a solution of a white, non-crystalline solid, whichanalysis showed to be the most poisonous of all akaloids.

"The bullet was virtually a hypodermic syringe; the poison in this cigarhas been introduced, in the form of an alcoholic or ethereal solution,by a hypodermic syringe. We shall thus be justified in assuming that thebullet and the cigar came from the same person; and, if this be so, wemay say that X is a person of considerable knowledge, of great ingenuityand no mean skill as a mechanician--as shown by the manufacture of thebullet.

"These are our principal facts--to which we may add the surmise that hehas recently purchased a second-hand Blickensderfer of the literary formor, at least, fitted with a literary typewheel."

"I don't quite see how you arrive at that," I said, in some surprise.

"It is merely a guess, you know," he replied, "though a probable one. Inthe first place he is obviously unused to typing, as the numerousmistakes show; therefore he has not had the machine very long. The typeis that which is peculiar to the Blickensderfer, and, in one of themistakes, an asterisk has been printed in place of a letter. But theliterary typewheel is the only one that has the asterisk. As to the ageof the machine, there are evident signs of wear, for some of the lettershave lost their sharpness, and this is most evident in the case of thoseletters which are the most used--the 'e,' you will notice, for instance,is much worn; and 'e' occurs more frequently than any other letter ofthe alphabet. Hence the machine, if recently purchased, was boughtsecond-hand."

"But," I objected, "it may not have been his own machine at all."

"That is quite possible," answered Thorndyke, "though, considering thesecrecy that would be necessary, the probabilities are in favour of hishaving bought it. But, in any case, we have here a means of identifyingthe machine, should we ever meet with it."

He picked up the label and handed it to me, together with his pocketlens.

"Look closely at the 'e' that we have been discussing; it occurs fivetimes; in 'Thorndyke,' in 'Bench,' in 'Inner,' and in 'Temple.' Now ineach case you will notice a minute break in the loop, just at thesummit. That break corresponds to a tiny dent in the type--caused,probably, by its striking some small, hard object."

"I can make it out quite distinctly," I said, "and it should be a mostvaluable point for identification."

"It should be almost conclusive," Thorndyke replied, "especially whenjoined to other facts that would be elicited by a search of hispremises. And now let us just recapitulate the facts which our friend Xhas placed at our disposal.

"Fourth: He is a man of considerable knowledge, ingenuity and mechanicalskill.

"Fifth: He has probably purchased, quite recently, a second-hand 'Blick'fitted with a literary typewheel. "Sixth: That machine, whether hisown or some other person's property, can be identified by acharacteristic mark on the small 'e.'

"If you will note down those six points and add that X is probably anexpert cyclist and a fairly good shot with a rifle, you may possibly beable, presently, to complete the equation, X = ?"

"I am afraid," I said, "I do not possess the necessary data; but Isuspect you do, and if it is so, I repeat that it is your duty tosociety--to say nothing of your clients, whose interests would suffer byyour death--to have this fellow laid by the heels before he does anymischief."

"Yes; I shall have to interfere if he becomes really troublesome, but Ihave reasons for wishing to leave him alone at present."

"You do really know who he is, then?"

"Well, I think I can solve the equation that I have just offered to youfor solution. You see, I have certain data, as you suggest, which you donot possess. There is, for instance, a certain ingenious gentlemanconcerning whom I hold what I believe to be exclusive information, andmy knowledge of him does not make it appear unlikely that he might bethe author of these neat little plans."

"I am much impressed," I said, as I put away my notebook, after havingjotted down the points that Thorndyke had advised me to consider--"I ammuch impressed by your powers of observation and your capacity forreasoning from apparently trivial data; but I do not see, even now, whyyou viewed that cigar with such immediate and decided suspicion. Therewas nothing actually to suggest the existence of poison in it, and yetyou seemed to form the suspicion at once and to search for it as thoughyou expected to find it."

"Yes," replied Thorndyke; "to a certain extent you are right. The ideaof a poisoned cigar was not new to me--and thereby hangs a tale."

He laughed softly and gazed into the fire with eyes that twinkled withquiet amusement. "You have heard me say," he resumed, after a shortpause, "that when I first took these chambers I had practically nothingto do. I had invented a new variety of medico-legal practice and had tobuild it up by slow degrees, and the natural consequence was that, for along time, it yielded nothing but almost unlimited leisure. Now, thatleisure was by no means wasted, for I employed it in considering theclass of cases in which I was likely to be employed, and in working outtheoretical examples; and seeing that crimes against the person havenearly always a strong medical interest, I gave them special attention.For instance, I planned a series of murders, selecting royal personagesand great ministers as the victims, and on each murder I brought to bearall the special knowledge, skill and ingenuity at my command. I inquiredminutely into the habits of my hypothetical victims; ascertained whowere their associates, friends, enemies and servants; considered theirdiet, their residences, their modes of conveyance, the source of theirclothing and, in fact, everything which it was necessary to know inorder to achieve their deaths with certainty and with absolute safety tothe murderer."

"How deeply gratified and flattered those great personages would havefelt," I remarked, "if they had known how much attention they werereceiving."

"Yes; I suppose it would have been somewhat startling, to the PrimeMinister, for instance, to have learned that he was being watched andstudied by an attentive observer and that the arrangements for hisdecease had been completed down to the minutest detail. But, of course,the application of the method to a particular case was the essentialthing, for it brought into view all the incidental difficulties, inmeeting which all the really interesting and instructive details wereinvolved. Well, the particulars of these crimes I wrote out at length,in my private shorthand, in a journal which I kept for the purpose--andwhich, I need not say, I locked up securely in my safe when I was notusing it. After completing each case, it was my custom to change sidesand play the game over again from the opposite side of the board; thatis to say, I added, as an appendix to each case, an analysis with acomplete scheme for the detection of the crime. I have in my safe at thepresent moment six volumes of cases, fully indexed; and I can assure youthat they are not only highly instructive reading, but are reallyvaluable as works of reference."

"That I can readily believe," I replied, laughing heartily,nevertheless, at the grotesqueness of the whole proceeding, "though theymight have proved rather incriminating documents if they had passed outof your possession."

"They would never have been read," rejoined Thorndyke. "My shorthand is,I think, quite undecipherable; it has been so made intentionally with aview to secrecy."

"And have any of your theoretical cases ever turned up in real life?"

"Several of them have, though very imperfectly planned and carried outas a rule. The poisoned cigar is one of them, though, of course Ishould never have adopted such a conspicuous device for presenting it;and the incident of the other night is a modification--for the worse--ofanother. In fact, most of the intricate and artistic crimes with which Ihave had to deal professionally have had their more complete andelaborate prototypes in my journals."

I was silent for some time, reflecting on the strange personality of mygifted friend and the singular fitness that he presented for the part hehad chosen to play in the drama of social life; but presently mythoughts returned to the peril that overshadowed him, and I came back,once more, to my original question.

"And now, Thorndyke," I said, "that you have penetrated both the motivesand the disguise of this villain, what are you going to do? Is he to beput safely under lock and key, or is he to be left in peace and securityto plan some other, and perhaps more successful, scheme for yourdestruction?"

"For the present," replied Thorndyke, "I am going to put these things ina place of safety. To-morrow you shall come with me to the hospital andsee me place the ends of the cigar in the custody of Dr. Chandler, whowill make an analysis and report on the nature of the poison. After thatwe shall act in whatever way seems best."

Unsatisfactory as this conclusion appeared, I knew it was useless toraise further objections, and, accordingly, when the cigar with itsaccompanying papers and wrappings had been deposited in a drawer, wedismissed it, if not from our thoughts, at least from our conversation.

CHAPTER XIV

A STARTLING DISCOVERY

The morning of the trial, so long looked forward to, had at lengtharrived, and the train of events which it has been my business tochronicle in this narrative was now fast drawing to an end. To me thoseevents had been in many ways of the deepest moment. Not only had theytransported me from a life of monotonous drudgery into one charged withnovelty and dramatic interest; not only had they introduced me to arenascence of scientific culture and revived under new conditions myintimacy with the comrade of my student days; but, far more momentousthan any of these, they had given me the vision--all too fleeting--ofhappiness untold, with the reality of sorrow and bitter regret thatpromised to be all too enduring.

Whence it happened that on this morning my thoughts were tinged with acertain greyness. A chapter in my life that had been both bitter andsweet was closing, and already I saw myself once more an Ishmaelite anda wanderer among strangers.

This rather egotistical frame of mind, however, was soon dispelled whenI encountered Polton, for the little man was in a veritable twitter ofexcitement at the prospect of witnessing the clearing up of themysteries that had so severely tried his curiosity; and even Thorndyke,beneath his habitual calm, showed a trace of expectancy and pleasurableanticipation.

"I have taken the liberty of making certain little arrangements on yourbehalf," he said, as we sat at breakfast, "of which I hope you will notdisapprove. I have written to Mrs. Hornby, who is one of the witnesses,to say that you will meet her at Mr. Lawley's office and escort her andMiss Gibson to the court. Walter Hornby may be with them, and, if he is,you had better leave him, if possible, to come on with Lawley."

"You will not come to the office, then?"

"No. I shall go straight to the court with Anstey. Besides, I amexpecting Superintendent Miller from Scotland Yard, who will probablywalk down with us."

"I am glad to hear that," I said; "for I have been rather uneasy at thethought of your mixing in the crowd without some kind of protection."

"Well, you see that I am taking precautions against the assaults of thetoo-ingenious X, and, to tell the truth--and also to commit a flagrantbull--I should never forgive myself if I allowed him to kill me before Ihad completed Reuben Hornby's defence. Ah, here is Polton--that man ison wires this morning; he has been wandering in and out of the roomsever since he came, like a cat in a new house."

"It's quite true, sir," said Polton, smiling and unabashed, "so it's nouse denying it. I have come to ask what we are going to take with us tothe court."

"You will find a box and a portfolio on the table in my room," repliedThorndyke. "We had better also take a microscope and the micrometers,though we are not likely to want them; that is all, I think."

"A box and a portfolio," repeated Polton in a speculative tone. "Yes,sir, I will take them with me." He opened the door and was about topass out, when, perceiving a visitor ascending the stairs, he turnedback.

"Here's Mr. Miller, from Scotland Yard, sir; shall I show him in?"

"Yes, do." He rose from his chair as a tall, military-looking manentered the room and saluted, casting, at the same time, an inquiringglance in my direction.

"Good morning, Doctor," he said briskly. "I got your letter and couldn'tmake such of it, but I have brought down a couple of plain-clothes menand a uniform man, as you suggested. I understand you want a housewatched?"

"Yes, and a man, too. I will give you the particulars presently--thatis, if you think you can agree to my conditions."

"That I act entirely on my own account and make no communication toanybody? Well, of course, I would rather you gave me all the facts andlet me proceed in the regular way; but if you make conditions I have nochoice but to accept them, seeing that you hold the cards."

Perceiving that the matter in hand was of a confidential nature, Ithought it best to take my departure, which I accordingly did, as soonas I had ascertained that it wanted yet half-an-hour to the time atwhich Mrs. Hornby and Juliet were due at the lawyer's office.

Mr. Lawley received me with stiffness that bordered on hostility. He wasevidently deeply offended at the subordinate part that he had beencompelled to play in the case, and was at no great pains to conceal thefact.

"I am informed," said he, in a frosty tone, when I had explained mymission, "that Mrs. Hornby and Miss Gibson are to meet you here. Thearrangement is none of my making; none of the arrangements in this caseare of my making. I have been treated throughout with a lack of ceremonyand confidence that is positively scandalous. Even now, I--thesolicitor for the defence--am completely in the dark as to what defenceis contemplated, though I fully expect to be involved in some ridiculousfiasco. I only trust that I may never again be associated with any ofyour hybrid practitioners. _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_, sir, is anexcellent motto; let the medical cobbler stick to his medical last."

"It remains to be seen what kind of boot he can turn out on the legallast," I retorted.

"That is so," he rejoined; "but I hear Mrs. Hornby's voice in the outeroffice, and as neither you nor I have any time to waste in idle talk, Isuggest that you make your way to the court without delay. I wish yougood morning!"

Acting on this very plain hint, I retired to the clerks' office, where Ifound Mrs. Hornby and Juliet, the former undisguisedly tearful andterrified, and the latter calm, though pale and agitated.

"We had better start at once," I said, when we had exchanged greetings."Shall we take a cab, or walk?"

"I think we will walk, if you don't mind," said Juliet. "Mrs. Hornbywants to have a few words with you before we go into court. You see, sheis one of the witnesses, and she is terrified lest she should saysomething damaging to Reuben."

"By whom was the subpoena served?" I asked.

"Mr. Lawley sent it," replied Mrs. Hornby, "and I went to see him aboutit the very next day, but he wouldn't tell me anything--he didn't seemto know what I was wanted for, and he wasn't at all nice--not at all."

"I expect your evidence will relate to the 'Thumbograph,'" I said."There is really nothing else in connection with the case that you haveany knowledge of."

"That is just what Walter said," exclaimed Mrs. Hornby. "I went to hisrooms to talk the matter over with him. He is very upset about the wholeaffair, and I am afraid he thinks very badly of poor Reuben's prospects.I only trust he may be wrong! Oh dear! What a dreadful thing it is, tobe sure!" Here the poor lady halted to mop her eyes elaborately, to thesurprise and manifest scorn of a passing errand boy.

"He was very thoughtful and sympathetic--Walter, I mean, you know,"pursued Mrs. Hornby, "and most helpful. He asked me all I knew aboutthat horrid little book, and took down my answers in writing. Then hewrote out the questions I was likely to be asked, with my answers, sothat I could read them over and get them well into my head. Wasn't itgood of him! And I made him print them with his machine so that I couldread them without my glasses, and he did it beautifully. I have thepaper in my pocket now."

"I didn't know Mr. Walter went in for printing," I said. "Has he aregular printing press?"

"It isn't a printing press exactly," replied Mrs. Hornby; "it is a smallthing with a lot of round keys that you press down--Dickensblerfer, Ithink it is called--ridiculous name, isn't it? Walter bought it from oneof his literary friends about a week ago; but he is getting quite cleverwith it already, though he does make a few mistakes still, as you cansee." She halted again, and began to search for the opening of apocket which was hidden away in some occult recess of her clothing, allunconscious of the effect that her explanation had produced on me. For,instantly, as she spoke, there flashed into my mind one of the pointsthat Thorndyke had given me for the identification of the mysterious X."He has probably purchased, quite recently, a second-handBlickensderfer, fitted with a literary typewheel." The coincidence wasstriking and even startling, though a moment's reflection convinced methat it was nothing more than a coincidence; for there must be hundredsof second-hand "Blicks" on the market, and, as to Walter Hornby, hecertainly could have no quarrel with Thorndyke, but would rather beinterested in his preservation on Reuben's account.

These thoughts passed through my mind so rapidly that by the time Mrs.Hornby had run her pocket to earth I had quite recovered from themomentary shock.

"Ah! here it is," she exclaimed triumphantly, producing an obese Moroccopurse. "I put it in here for safety, knowing how liable one is to getone's pocket picked in these crowded London streets." She opened thebulky receptacle and drew it out after the manner of a concertina,exhibiting multitudinous partitions, all stuffed with pieces of paper,coils of tape and sewing silk, buttons, samples of dress materials andmiscellaneous rubbish, mingled indiscriminately with gold, silver, andcopper coins.

I opened the paper and read: "The Committee of the Society for theProtection of Paralysed Idiots, in submitting this--"

"Oh! that isn't it; I have given you the wrong paper. How silly of me!That is the appeal of--you remember, Juliet, dear, that troublesomeperson--I had, really, to be quite rude, you know, Dr. Jervis; I had totell him that charity begins at home, although, thank Heaven! none of usare paralysed, but we must consider our own, mustn't we? And then--"

"Do you think this is the one, dear?" interposed Juliet, in whose palecheek the ghost of a dimple had appeared. "It looks cleaner than most ofthe others."

She selected a folded paper from the purse which Mrs. Hornby was holdingwith both hands extended to its utmost, as though she were about toproduce a burst of music, and, opening it, glanced at its contents.

"Yes, this is your evidence," she said, and passed the paper to me.

I took the document from her hand and, in spite of the conclusion atwhich I had arrived, examined it with eager curiosity. And at the veryfirst glance I felt my head swim and my heart throb violently. For thepaper was headed: "Evidence respecting the Thumbograph," and in everyone of the five small "e's" that occurred in that sentence I could seeplainly by the strong out-door light a small break or interval in thesummit of the loop.

I was thunderstruck.

One coincidence was quite possible and even probable; but the twotogether, and the second one of so remarkable a character, were beyondall reasonable limits of probability. The identification did not seem toadmit of a doubt, and yet--

"Our legal adviser appears to be somewhat preoccupied," remarked Juliet,with something of her old gaiety of manner; and, in fact, though I heldthe paper in my hand, my gaze was fixed unmeaningly on an adjacentlamp-post. As she spoke, I pulled myself together, and, scanning thepaper hastily, was fortunate enough to find in the first paragraphmatter requiring comment.

"I observe, Mrs. Hornby," I said, "that in answer to the first question,'Whence did you obtain the "Thumbograph"?' you say, 'I do not rememberclearly; I think I must have bought it at a railway bookstall.' Now Iunderstood that it was brought home and given to you by Walter himself."

"That was what I thought," replied Mrs. Hornby, "but Walter tells methat it was not so, and, of course, he would remember better than Ishould."

"But, my dear aunt, I am sure he gave it to you," interposed Juliet."Don't you remember? It was the night the Colleys came to dinner, and wewere so hard pressed to find amusement for them, when Walter came in andproduced the 'Thumbograph.'"

"Yes, I remember quite well now," said Mrs. Hornby. "How fortunate thatyou reminded me. We must alter that answer at once."

"If I were you, Mrs. Hornby," I said, "I would disregard this paperaltogether. It will only confuse you and get you into difficulties.Answer the questions that are put, as well as you can, and if you don'tremember, say so."

"Yes, that will be much the wisest plan," said Juliet. "Let Dr. Jervistake charge of the paper and rely on your own memory." "Very well, mydear," replied Mrs. Hornby, "I will do what you think best, and you cankeep the paper, Dr. Jervis, or throw it away."

I slipped the document into my pocket without remark, and we proceededon our way, Mrs. Hornby babbling inconsequently, with occasionaloutbursts of emotion, and Juliet silent and abstracted. I struggled toconcentrate my attention on the elder lady's conversation, but mythoughts continually reverted to the paper in my pocket, and thestartling solution that it seemed to offer of the mystery of thepoisoned cigar.

Could it be that Walter Hornby was in reality the miscreant X? The thingseemed incredible, for, hitherto, no shadow of suspicion had appeared tofall on him. And yet there was no denying that his description talliedin a very remarkable manner with that of the hypothetical X. He was aman of some means and social position; he was a man of considerableknowledge and mechanical skill, though as to his ingenuity I could notjudge. He had recently bought a second-hand Blickensderfer whichprobably had a literary typewheel, since it was purchased from aliterary man; and that machine showed the characteristic mark on thesmall "e." The two remaining points, indeed, were not so clear.Obviously I could form no opinion as to whether or not Thorndyke heldany exclusive information concerning him, and, with reference to hisknowledge of my friend's habits, I was at first inclined to be doubtfuluntil I suddenly recalled, with a pang of remorse and self-accusation,the various details that I had communicated to Juliet and that she mighteasily, in all innocence, have handed on to Walter. I had, for instance,told her of Thorndyke's preference for the Trichinopoly cheroot, and ofthis she might very naturally have spoken to Walter, who possessed asupply of them. Again, with regard to the time of our arrival at King'sCross, I had informed her of this in a letter which was in no wayconfidential, and again there was no reason why the information shouldnot have been passed on to Walter, who was to have been one of the partyat the family dinner. The coincidence seemed complete enough, in alltruth; yet it was incredible that Reuben's cousin could be soblackhearted a villain or could have any motive for these dastardlycrimes.

Suddenly a new idea struck me. Mrs Hornby had obtained access to thistypewriting machine; and if Mrs. Hornby could do so, why not JohnHornby? The description would, for the most part, fit the elder man aswell as the younger, though I had no evidence of his possessing anyspecial mechanical skill; but my suspicions had already fastened uponhim, and I remembered that Thorndyke had by no means rejected my theorywhich connected him with the crime.

At this point, my reflections were broken in upon by Mrs. Hornby, whograsped my arm and uttered a deep groan. We had reached the corner ofthe Old Bailey, and before us were the frowning walls of Newgate. Withinthose walls, I knew--though I did not mention the fact--that ReubenHornby was confined with the other prisoners who were awaiting theirtrial; and a glance at the massive masonry, stained to a dingy grey bythe grime of the city, put an end to my speculations and brought me backto the drama that was so nearly approaching its climax.

Down the old thoroughfare, crowded with so many memories of hideoustragedy; by the side of the gloomy prison; past the debtors' door withits forbidding spiked wicket; past the gallows gate with its festoonsof fetters; we walked in silence until we reached the entrance to theSessions House.

Here I was not a little relieved to find Thorndyke on the look-out forus, for Mrs. Hornby, in spite of really heroic efforts to control heremotion, was in a state of impending hysteria, while Juliet, thoughoutwardly calm and composed, showed by the waxen pallor of her cheeksand a certain wildness of her eyes that all her terror was reviving; andI was glad that they were spared the unpleasantness of contact with thepolicemen who guarded the various entrances.

"We must be brave," said Thorndyke gently, as he took Mrs. Hornby'shand, "and show a cheerful face to our friend who has so much to bearand who bears it so patiently. A few more hours, and I hope we shall seerestored, not only his liberty, but his honour. Here is Mr. Anstey, who,we trust, will be able to make his innocence apparent."

Anstey, who, unlike Thorndyke, had already donned his wig and gown,bowed gravely, and, together, we passed through the mean and grimyportals into a dark hall. Policemen in uniform and unmistakabledetectives stood about the various entries, and little knots of people,evil-looking and unclean for the most part, lurked in the background orsat on benches and diffused through the stale, musty air thatdistinctive but indescribable odour that clings to police vans andprison reception rooms; an odour that, in the present case, waspleasantly mingled with the suggestive aroma of disinfectants. Throughthe unsavoury throng we hurried, and up a staircase to a landing fromwhich several passages diverged. Into one of these passages--a sort of"dark entry," furnished with a cage-like gate of iron bars--we passedto a black door, on which was painted the inscription, "Old Court.Counsel and clerks."

Anstey held the door open for us, and we passed through into the court,which at once struck me with a sense of disappointment. It was smallerthan I had expected, and plain and mean to the point of sordidness. Thewoodwork was poor, thinly disguised by yellow graining, and slimy withdirt wherever a dirty hand could reach it. The walls were distempered apale, greenish grey; the floor was of bare and dirty planking, and theonly suggestions of dignity or display were those offered by the canopyover the judge's seat--lined with scarlet baize and surmounted by theroyal arms--the scarlet cushions of the bench, and the large, circularclock in the gallery, which was embellished with a gilded border andasserted its importance by a loud, aggressive tick.

Following Anstey and Thorndyke into the well of the court, we wereushered into one of the seats reserved for counsel--the third from thefront--where we sat down and looked about us, while our two friendsseated themselves in the front bench next to the central table. Here, atthe extreme right, a barrister--presumably the counsel for theprosecution--was already in his place and absorbed in the brief that layon the desk before him. Straight before us were the seats for the jury,rising one above the other, and at their side the witness-box. Above uson the right was the judge's seat, and immediately below it a structuresomewhat resembling a large pew or a counting-house desk, surmounted bya brass rail, in which a person in a grey wig--the clerk of thecourt--was mending a quill pen. On our left rose the dock--suggestivelylarge and roomy--enclosed at the sides with high glazed frames; andabove it, near the ceiling, was the spectators' gallery.

"Yes," I answered. "The uncleanness of the criminal is not confined tohis moral being; wherever he goes, he leaves a trail of actual,physical dirt. It is not so long ago that the dock and the bench alikeused to be strewn with medicinal herbs, and I believe the custom stillsurvives of furnishing the judge with a nosegay as a preventive ofjail-fever."

"And to think that Reuben should be brought to a place like this!"Juliet continued bitterly; "to be herded with such people as we sawdownstairs!"

She sighed and looked round at the benches that rose behind us, where ahalf-dozen reporters were already seated and apparently in high spiritsat the prospect of a sensational case.

Our conversation was now interrupted by the clatter of feet on thegallery stairs, and heads began to appear over the wooden parapet.Several junior counsel filed into the seats in front of us; Mr. Lawleyand his clerk entered the attorney's bench; the ushers took their standbelow the jury-box; a police officer seated himself at a desk in thedock; and inspectors, detectives and miscellaneous officers began togather in the entries or peer into the court through the small glazedopenings in the doors.

CHAPTER XV

THE FINGER-PRINT EXPERTS

The hum of conversation that had been gradually increasing as the courtfilled suddenly ceased. A door at the back of the dais was flung open;counsel, solicitors, and spectators alike rose to their feet; and thejudge entered, closely followed by the Lord Mayor, the sheriff, andvarious civic magnates, all picturesque and gorgeous in their robes andchains of office. The Clerk of Arraigns took his place behind his tableunder the dais; the counsel suspended their conversation and fingeredtheir briefs; and, as the judge took his seat, lawyers, officials, andspectators took their seats, and all eyes were turned towards the dock.

A few moments later Reuben Hornby appeared in the enclosure in companywith a warder, the two rising, apparently, from the bowels of the earth,and, stepping forward to the bar, stood with a calm and self-possesseddemeanour, glancing somewhat curiously around the court. For an instanthis eye rested upon the group of friends and well-wishers seated behindthe counsel, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his face; butimmediately he turned his eyes away and never again throughout the triallooked in our direction.

The Clerk of Arraigns now rose and, reading from the indictment whichlay before him on the table, addressed the prisoner--

"Reuben Hornby, you stand indicted for that you did, on the ninth ortenth day of March, feloniously steal a parcel of diamonds of the goodsand chattels of John Hornby. Are you guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty," replied Reuben.

The Clerk of Arraigns, having noted the prisoner's reply, thenproceeded--

"The gentlemen whose names are about to be called will form the jury whoare to try you. If you wish to object to any of them, you must do so aseach comes to the book to be sworn, and before he is sworn. You willthen be heard."

In acknowledgment of this address, which was delivered in clear, ringingtones, and with remarkable distinctness, Reuben bowed to the clerk, andthe process of swearing-in the jury was commenced, while the counselopened their briefs and the judge conversed facetiously with anofficial in a fur robe and a massive neck chain.

Very strange, to unaccustomed eyes and ears, was the effect of thisfunction--half solemn and half grotesque, with an effect intermediatebetween that of a religious rite and that of a comic opera. Above thehalf-suppressed hum of conversation the clerk's voice arose at regularintervals, calling out the name of one of the jurymen, and, as its ownerstood up, the court usher, black-gowned and sacerdotal of aspect,advanced and proffered the book. Then, as the juryman took the volume inhis hand, the voice of the usher resounded through the court like thatof a priest intoning some refrain or antiphon--an effect that wasincreased by the rhythmical and archaic character of the formula--

"Samuel Seppings!"

A stolid-looking working-man rose and, taking the Testament in his hand,stood regarding the usher while that official sang out in a solemnmonotone--

"You shall well and truly try and true deliverance make between ourSovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar, whom you shall havein charge, and a true verdict give according to the evidence. So helpyou God!"

"James Piper!" Another juryman rose and was given the Book to hold; andagain the monotonous sing-song arose--

"You shall well and truly try and true deliverance make, etc."

"I shall scream aloud if that horrible chant goes on much longer,"Juliet whispered. "Why don't they all swear at once and have done withit?"

"That would not meet the requirements," I answered. "However, there areonly two more, so you must have patience."

"And you will have patience with me, too, won't you? I am horriblyfrightened. It is all so solemn and dreadful."

"You must try to keep up your courage until Dr. Thorndyke has given hisevidence," I said. "Remember that, until he has spoken, everything isagainst Reuben; so be prepared."

"I will try," she answered meekly; "but I can't help being terrified."

The last of the jurymen was at length sworn, and when the clerk had oncemore called out the names one by one, the usher counting loudly as eachman answered to his name, the latter officer turned to the Court andspectators, and proclaimed in solemn tones--

"If anyone can inform my Lords the King's justices, the King'sattorney-general, or the King's serjeant, ere this inquest be now takenbetween our Sovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar, of anytreason, murder, felony or misdemeanour, committed or done by him, lethim come forth and he shall be heard; for the prisoner stands at the barupon his deliverance."

This proclamation was followed by a profound silence, and after a briefinterval the Clerk of Arraigns turned towards the jury and addressedthem collectively--

"Gentlemen of the jury, the prisoner at the bar stands indicted by thename of Reuben Hornby, for that he, on the ninth or tenth of March,feloniously did steal, take and carry away a parcel of diamonds of thegoods of John Hornby. To this indictment he has pleaded that he is notguilty, and your charge is to inquire whether he be guilty or not and tohearken to the evidence."

When he had finished his address the clerk sat down, and the judge, athin-faced, hollow-eyed elderly man, with bushy grey eyebrows and a verylarge nose, looked attentively at Reuben for some moments over the topsof his gold-rimmed pince-nez. Then he turned towards the counsel nearestthe bench and bowed slightly.

The barrister bowed in return and rose, and for the first time Iobtained a complete view of Sir Hector Trumpler, K.C., the counsel forthe prosecution. His appearance was not prepossessing nor--though he wasa large man and somewhat florid as to his countenance--particularlystriking, except for a general air of untidiness. His gown was slippingoff one shoulder, his wig was perceptibly awry, and his pince-nezthreatened every moment to drop from his nose.

"The case that I have to present to you, my lord and gentlemen of thejury," he began in a clear, though unmusical voice, "is one the like ofwhich is but too often met with in this court. It is one in which weshall see unbounded trust met by treacherous deceit, in which we shallsee countless benefactions rewarded by the basest ingratitude, and inwhich we shall witness the deliberate renunciation of a life ofhonourable effort in favour of the tortuous and precarious ways of thecriminal. The facts of the case are briefly as follows: The prosecutorin this case--most unwilling prosecutor, gentlemen--is Mr. John Hornby,who is a metallurgist and dealer in precious metals. Mr. Hornby has twonephews, the orphan sons of his two elder brothers, and I may tell youthat since the decease of their parents he has acted the part of afather to both of them. One of these nephews is Mr. Walter Hornby, andthe other is Reuben Hornby, the prisoner at the bar. Both of thesenephews were received by Mr. Hornby into his business with a view totheir succeeding him when he should retire, and both, I need not say,occupied positions of trust and responsibility.

"Now, on the evening of the ninth of March there was delivered to Mr.Hornby a parcel of rough diamonds of which one of his clients asked himto take charge pending their transfer to the brokers. I need not burdenyou with irrelevant details concerning this transaction. It will sufficeto say that the diamonds, which were of the aggregate value of aboutthirty thousand pounds, were delivered to him, and the unopened packagedeposited by him in his safe, together with a slip of paper on which hehad written in pencil a memorandum of the circumstances. This was on theevening of the ninth of March, as I have said. Having deposited theparcel, Mr. Hornby locked the safe, and shortly afterwards left thepremises and went home, taking the keys with him.

"On the following morning, when he unlocked the safe, he perceived withastonishment and dismay that the parcel of diamonds had vanished. Theslip of paper, however, lay at the bottom of the safe, and on picking itup Mr. Hornby perceived that it bore a smear of blood, and in addition,the distinct impression of a human thumb. On this he closed and lockedthe safe and sent a note to the police station, in response to which avery intelligent officer--Inspector Sanderson--came and made apreliminary examination. I need not follow the case further, since thedetails will appear in the evidence, but I may tell you that, in effect,it has been made clear, beyond all doubt, that the thumb-print on thatpaper was the thumb-print of the prisoner, Reuben Hornby."

He paused to adjust his glasses, which were in the very act of fallingfrom his nose, and hitch up his gown, while he took a leisurely surveyof the jury, as though he were estimating their impressionability. Atthis moment I observed Walter Hornby enter the court and take up aposition at the end of our bench nearest the door; and, immediatelyafter, Superintendent Miller came in and seated himself on one of thebenches opposite.

"The first witness whom I shall call," said Sir Hector Trumpler, "isJohn Hornby."

Mr. Hornby, looking wild and agitated, stepped into the witness-box, andthe usher, having handed him the Testament, sang out--

"The evidence you shall give to the court and jury sworn, between ourSovereign Lord the King and the prisoner at the bar shall be the truth,the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; so help you God!"

"Yes. I am a dealer in precious metals, but my business consistsprincipally in the assaying of samples of ore and quartz and bars ofsilver and gold."

"Do you remember what happened on the ninth of March last?"

"Perfectly. My nephew Reuben--the prisoner--delivered to me a parcel ofdiamonds which he had received from the purser of the _Elmina Castle_,to whom I had sent him as my confidential agent. I had intended todeposit the diamonds with my banker, but when the prisoner arrived at myoffice, the banks were already closed, so I had to put the parcel, forthe night, in my own safe. I may say that the prisoner was not in anyway responsible for the delay."

"You are not here to defend the prisoner," said Sir Hector. "Answer myquestions and make no comments, if you please. Was anyone present whenyou placed the diamonds in the safe?" "No one was present but myself."

"I did not ask if you were present when you put them in," said SirHector (whereupon the spectators sniggered and the judge smiledindulgently). "What else did you do?"

"I wrote in pencil on a leaf of my pocket memorandum block, 'Handed inby Reuben at 7.3 p.m., 9.3.01,' and initialled it. Then I tore the leaffrom the block and laid it on the parcel, after which I closed the safeand locked it."

"How soon did you leave the premises after this?"

"Almost immediately. The prisoner was waiting for me in the outeroffice--"

"Never mind where the prisoner was; confine your answers to what isasked. Did you take the keys with you?"